Snakes N' Barrels
by pat4pat
Summary: Pickles and Tony's secret, sexual relationship behind the scenes. How did it really all go down?


**Thank you everyone for reading! This is my first slash fic ever…so I hope I do the genre justice and satisfy you all! :)**

Sex, drugs, and booze. Not the only highlights of being rock stars, but still a welcomed addition to the lifestyle. It was a lifestyle that Pickles had grown accustomed to, a lifestyle he was destined to live. And he lived each moment, coherent and incoherent, like it was his last.

If Snakes N' Barrels had a rocky or slow start, it was all but forgotten after their rise to fame. Their faces and names were known all over L.A. and beyond; the cash flow and gigs were never-ending. And at the moment, the sex, drugs, and booze were never-ending, as well.

The band had returned to L.A. after a long nationwide tour. In true fashion, they proceeded to the nearest bar straight from their tour bus and a party ensued. The music was deafening loud and the smoky haze made the already darkened bar more obscure. Pickles sat on his barstool, leisurely taking an ongoing line of free shots as he scanned the room around him. Candynose and Snazz were using straws to snort up their perfectly cut, snow white lines. Groupies barely clad clung to the two musicians as they straightened to high five each other. Other roadies and groupies that had followed them from already forgotten cities and towns were strewn across the room in an array of nameless faces, smoking, drinking, laughing, dancing. Pickles basked in all its sinful glory. He was a rock god, untouchable. Or so he thought.

Pickles' eyes did not stop their roaming until they rested upon the band's forth member. The great bass playing Antonio "Tony" DiMarco Thunderbottom was casually leaning against a jukebox, grinning and laughing with two groupies. He wore his signature hat, tight jeans, and vest, no shirt underneath. His toned arms were visible, his smooth chest rock hard. A wispy trail of hair traveled from below his belly button until it disappeared beneath his pants. The sharp V from his hips and groin accentuated his dark treasure trail.

How Tony felt the singer's gaze upon him was unknown as the two were barely visible to each other through the smoky haze, but he lifted his dark eyes towards Pickles. He raised his glass towards Pickles, flashing him a secret smile. Pickles' heart began to pound within his chest as he tried his best to casually nod back. Without casting the two groupies another glance, Tony excused himself and sauntered over to where Pickles was sitting by the bar.

As Tony slowly approached, Pickles' hands began to sweat as he clutched onto his shot glass with more force. If it weren't for the continuous line of shots, he would've quickly and easily vacated the bar with a few girls, seeking refuge and comfort within their contours. But he wasn't in his right mind tonight. And even if he had been, he probably would've remained as he was now, watching and waiting. And that's what scared him.

* * *

It was during the start of Snakes N' Barrels. Tony had come across a younger Pickles at the L.A. bus station, guitar case in hand and only ten dollars in a worn jean pocket. The two had got to talking and before Pickles knew it, he had found not only a place to crash, but a future friend and band mate. What Tony had seen in the redhead, Pickles was unsure, but forever grateful towards the dark haired bassist for taking him under his wing. Tony had brought Pickles back to his apartment where he was introduced to the now drummer, Sammy "Candynose" Twinskins, and fellow guitarist, Snizzy "Snazz" Bullets. Once they found that Pickles could sing, Snakes N' Barrels began to form.

The band played gigs wherever they could in L.A. They knew it was either sink or float in a city that would easily chew them up and spit them out. Coming from a small town in Wisconsin, Pickles felt this pressure the hardest. It was during a break at one of their first gigs at a dive bar that Pickles had his first major meltdown. Candynose and Snazz merely ignored the young singer's tantrum, opting to take first dibs on the free booze that was offered to them backstage. But Tony had stayed behind and tried his best to calm the fiery tempered redhead. Pickles blushed remembering his childish actions, his ranting and raving about how they would never make it big in L.A. It was all a joke, a big waste of time, a fucking piece of sh-

And that was when Pickles was abruptly spun around. His breath left him as he was slammed against a wall. A firm hand roughly took hold of his chin as it was lifted to meet Tony's violent kiss. Snaking his other arm around Pickles' tiny waist, Tony leaned in and briefly rubbed his groin against the singer. And as soon as it all happened, it ended just as fast. Tony slowly stepped away from Pickles, his hands returning to his sides, lust filled eyes at half-mast gazing darkly back at the singer. Pickles barely had a second to process the whole situation, his lips tingling from the crush of Tony's mouth, his body warming from the heat of Tony's touch. With wide eyes, Pickles remembered to breathe, inhaling a large breath of air.

"What the fu-"

"You're back on!" someone yelled backstage.

Too soon, Tony turned and grabbed his bass guitar. Lost in utter shock, Pickles nearly hit the ceiling as Snazz suddenly yelled at him to hurry up. Regaining as much composure as he was humanly capable of at that moment, he quickly ran a hand through his puffed up 80s hair and sauntered back on stage.

And that was that. Their lives continued as if nothing had ever happened. Tony gave no indication of what he did that night backstage and Pickles never brought it up again. From time to time, Pickles could feel Tony's lingering gaze upon him when he thought he wasn't paying attention, but it never went past that. They played their gigs, they drank their booze, smoked and snorted their drugs, and had their endless fill of all the free pussy the jungle of L.A. had to offer. It seemed like Tony had forgotten all about that one night. But Pickles remembered and he replayed that kiss over and over in his head, a never-ending reel of conflicting emotions and haunting images.

It wasn't until the end of their tour that Pickles realized Tony had not forgotten but was merely watching and waiting. That whole time, since the very beginning, Tony had managed to patiently wait and see how Pickles would react. It was conflicting to say the least for Pickles to do anything at all. Tony was a strong and dominant man who could overpower the younger singer anytime he pleased. But he left Pickles alone, and this left the singer with a sense of having control. But as their last tour neared its end, Pickles could feel the silent impatience surrounding Tony. It was a dangerous and urgent darkness that coaxed Pickles, calling to him to just try a taste of the forbidden.

* * *

Pickles came back from his thoughts as Tony took the barstool beside him. Dark Italian eyes searched shining green Irish eyes as the two faced each other. Pickles could feel his heart hammering inside his chest, being so near to Tony. The bassist's eyes continued to scan the singers' as he mulled over his thoughts. Pickles could feel the anticipation of the unknown.

"I've waited too long." Tony finally said; his low voice was barely audible.

Pickles could've played dumb, but he knew what Tony was talking about. Tony was tired of playing the waiting game. A small jolt of fear shot through Pickles' spine as a wicked grin flashed across his band mate's lips. Pickles mouth grew dry. Staring at Tony's lips, Pickles recalled how hot and rough they felt against his own so long ago.

"Don't play dumb with me, Pickles," Tony continued, bringing Pickles back from his thoughts, "We both know what I'm talking about. You've been fucking tagging me along this whole time."

Tony's grin widened as Pickles' brows furrowed in confusion.

"You don't even realize what a fucking tease you are, do you, you little slut?" Tony chuckled to himself, "Strutting your stuff on stage in those low-rise, tight fitting jeans, flashing that pretty smile back at me during all those gigs. Well, what's a guy to think?"

Before Pickles had the chance to respond, a firm hand grasped around his upper arm, squeezing at his freckled flesh. Tony's grin was now becoming something darker, something feral.

"I took you in, gave you a roof over your head and food to eat. And now we're the biggest fucking band in all of L.A.!" Tony was pulling Pickles closer, forcing the singer to lean into the dark haired man. Pickles winced from the pain. "And I think you owe me a little for that."

Tony's last words were whispered. Pickles could smell the alcohol heavy on his breath. He didn't know if his heart was hammering from the sudden rush of excitement or from pure fear. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

"Wh-what do you want?" Pickles whispered back with a trembling voice.

Tony merely gazed back into Pickles' eyes, relishing in the fear swirling within the green irises. They widened, knowing, as Tony's smirk spread to a toothy grin.


End file.
